I'm Not Sorry
by BlackFox12
Summary: Thunderheart movie. Ray isn't sorry. Not even when Walter Crow Horse gives him that look. Written for the Pick n Mix challenge over on Spanking World at Livejournal


**I'm Not Sorry**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the movie Thunderheart and I'm not making any money from this fic

**Summary:** Ray isn't sorry. Not even when Walter Crow Horse gives him _that look_

**Warning(s):** Hard spanking; sexual situations between two men; some references to violence; AU

**Pairing:** Walter Crow Horse/Ray Levoi

**Author's Note:** Written for the Pick N Mix challenge on Spanking_World over on Livejournal. These are the prompts: bitter, whiskey, envy

###

"I'm not sorry."

Walter didn't say anything. He just leaned his hip against the desk and raised an eyebrow, giving _that look_. The one Ray recognised and never failed to make his stomach sink. The one that said, _I'm disappointed in you and even though I love you, you're in Big Trouble._

Ray didn't know how it was possible for one look to convey all of that. Maybe it was because he could read his lover so very well. Or, more than likely, it was because _that look_ had always been accompanied by those exact words, to the point that Ray could probably chant those words back to his partner. Not that he would, as that would be disrespectful. He ignored that tiny little voice inside his head that pointed out what he was saying wasn't exactly respectful either.

"I didn't do anything wrong."

Still, Walter didn't say anything. He just stared at Ray with that calm, infuriating look on his face, that eyebrow raised.

Ray squirmed in his seat and resisted the urge to glance towards his door. A big part of him wanted something to happen. An emergency. An alarm to go off. _Anything_ that would postpone this conversation, at the very least.

"It was only one shot of whiskey."

The snort Walter gave was one of disbelief. He perched on the edge of the desk and just carried on staring Ray down.

It was times like this that Ray almost envied the other people in the station. While he was fairly certain that many of his fellow detectives were in relationships, he was pretty certain that his significant other was the only one who'd come into his office to scold him for, admittedly, a poor decision he'd made the evening before.

"Okay, you're right." Ray sighed. "It might have been only one shot of whiskey, but I had more than one of those drinks." It was a really bitter pill to swallow, but he had to admit it. He felt his cheeks grow hot and he looked down at his desk. Of course, he could still see Walter's blue jeans out of the corner of his eye. A hollow pit grew in his stomach as he considered that it wasn't going to be long before he was laying across those denim-clad legs. Maybe, if he apologised, his lover would wait until they were at home before punishing him.

A click brought Ray's attention back to the here and now and he raised his eyes, watching as Walter walked back to the desk and round it, standing over Ray. "Get up."

Ray swallowed and cast a glance towards the door. "They're gonna hear," he muttered. If they didn't hear the smacks, they'd definitely hear his reactions to them. And if he got lucky and they didn't hear either the punishment or his inevitable reaction, they'd definitely see he'd been crying when they finally left the office. And there were no doubts in his mind that he'd wind up crying. Probably bawling like a baby, if he was completely honest.

"Maybe you should have thought about the consequences before you made those decisions in front of our friends and colleagues," Walter said quietly.

"All I did was have a few drinks." Ray shook his head. "Yeah, okay, maybe my judgement wasn't exactly sound, but I didn't do anything all that dangerous." A hesitantly uncertain note crept into his voice. It was hard to swallow past the lump in his throat. His palms were clammy and his face felt hot. He squirmed in his seat and then began rapidly shaking his head as Walter removed the belt from his waist and doubled it over in his hand. "No." His voice came out at a higher pitch than he would have liked. "I wasn't _that_ bad."

Walter stared at him, his mouth set in a firm, grim line. "How much do you remember?"

More heat rose to Ray's cheeks and he shook his head again, unwilling to admit that most of the previous night was a blur. He truly hadn't meant to drink as much as he'd ended up with.

When Walter spoke again, a stern note crept into his voice; one Ray heard rarely, if ever. The tone indicated his partner was _more_ than pissed at him. "I figured as much. You spotted a suspect in the bar. He saw you and took off." He paused. "I had to hold you back from jumping in the car and taking off after him, several units of alcohol in your body and all."

Ray opened his mouth, but what he had to say in his defence, he had no clue. And then his mouth closed with an audible snap as he took in the stiff, awkward way Walter was standing; how he favoured his right side. His stomach dropped. "Did I...I hurt you."

"You lashed out. I don't think you knew what what you were doing. You certainly didn't seem to see me." A slightly softer look came over his face. "I'm not sure you saw anyone."

Ray heard the note of understanding in Walter's voice, but it didn't matter. It didn't make a difference. Guilt turned his insides hot and heavy. His mind turned acidic, filled with self-loathing. In one movement, he pushed back from the desk. Standing, he unsnapped his jeans. Pushed them down to his ankles. Walked, or rather stumbled, round to the other side of the desk and shoved paperwork to the side, clearing a space. He bent forward, his torso resting on the hard surface, his fingers gripping onto the far edge so tight, his knuckles turned white.

It was hard not to tense up as he felt rather than heard Walter step to his side. He cringed as he heard the leather whistle through the air. Jerked in place as it snapped against the seat of his briefs, leaving behind a stripe of burning fire in its wake.

As the pain dulled from a roar to an ache, the second stripe landed just below the first and Ray sucked in a deep, sharp breath. His fingers tightened their grip on the edge of the desk as he tried to hold back the cries that wanted to escape.

After ten painful stripes, tears were in Ray's eyes and he was breathing deeply. His whole body stiffened and he couldn't stop a tiny whimper escaping as he felt Walter's fingers in his briefs. He let out his breath in a quiet woosh as they were tugged down to join his pants.

The first lick of the belt on bare skin had him crying out. He loosened his hold on the desk, but managed to avoid standing; until the second stripe landed and then he stood up with a loud whimper.

"Back down, love," Walter said seriously.

Closing his eyes, Ray forced himself to bend back over. His bottom was throbbing and it was hard to submit to more punishment, but he made himself grip the far edge and take a deep breath to prepare himself.

The tears began to fall as the belt started landing again. It was nearly impossible to distinguish between the individual stripes; his whole backside ached and throbbed, from the crest down to his thighs. Tears ran down his cheeks and his breath came out in great, heaving gasps.

It took Ray several long moments to realise the thrashing was over. It was only when he felt Walter's weight pressing on him and his partner's fingers working at uncurling his hands from the desk that he could relax his tense body. With Walter's help, he stood up and turned round, wrapping his arms tightly and desperately around the other man. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

"I know you are and I forgive you." Walter clasped both hands to Ray's blazing backside and pulled him closer.

The contact with his sore bottom made more tears fall down Ray's cheeks, but he welcomed the pain as his penance for his actions. When Walter grasped his chin, he lifted his head and their lips met. He closed his eyes, tasting the salt of his own tears.

His bottom felt like it was on fire, but his heart and head were in agreement that everything finally felt right.

**The End**


End file.
